


I'll Know when my Love Comes Along

by MooeyDooey



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bickering like Old Married Couple, M/M, No Spoilers, Pre-Relationship, Stable-duty, and a LITTLE hint of angsty longing, just some fluffy goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooeyDooey/pseuds/MooeyDooey
Summary: “If your theory cannot withstand after I prick holes in it, it is not a very stable theory,” said Hubert.“And that is where your problem lies!” Ferdinand exclaimed, with another wild gesticulation of the sponge. “You are trying to think of love as a rational concept, but it cannot be explained by logic. Love is not felt with the mind, but the heart. I shall know exactly when my love comes along, because my heart will tell me.”- - - - - - -After years of arguing relentlessly with one another, Professor Byleth gets fed up with Ferdinand and Hubert, and assigns them to consecutive weeks of stable duty together. Things get personal when their disagreement shifts from their opinions on famous Andrestian Operas, to matters of the heart.





	I'll Know when my Love Comes Along

**Author's Note:**

> IM BACK WITH THE FERBIE BBYYYYYYYY 
> 
> Got a short and sweet lil ficlet for you this time! Just wanted to do a tiny little character study on Ferdinand's bleeding heart. 
> 
> Also because I wanted to write Ferdinand and Hubert arguing, because them going at it is one of my favorite parts of their relationship dynamic. 
> 
> This is set in the Crimson Flower route! Post B-support, pre A-support. Hope you enjoy!

_I'll know when my love comes along_  
_I won't take a chance.._  
_I'll know he'll be just what I need_  
_Not some fly-by-night Broadway romance._  
  


* * *

Many things had changed at Garreg Mach over the years. 

Several of the walls had crumbled into near-ruin. Art that had once hung proudly from the walls had been torn down, and the shredded piles of mural were re-used wherever they proved useful. 

The classrooms of the academy were in disarray. Many of the chairs and tables were filled with rotted pockets of wood, and could not hold any weight upon them. Even the marketplaces, filled with more people by the day, were still emptier than they had ever been in their prime. 

Many things had changed, but one thing remained painfully and unyielding established. 

That was the fact that Hubert and Ferdinand could find just about anything to butt heads over. 

It was a well known fact throughout the Andrestian base of operations that the two men should not be left alone together. Even when placed on opposite ends of the room, they could find a way to get into an argument with one another. 

No matter what their comrades tried, it was in vain. 

So their dear Professor did what any master tactician would do. The exact same plan that had worked for every other student with interpersonal problems they needed to work out. 

Hubert and Ferdinand were assigned to stable duty together. 

The first week had been an absolute disaster. On their own, each one of them were incredible capable men. But on that first night they had gotten into such a verbal scuffle that they had stopped doing their chores entirely, and had lost track of the time about halfway through. 

They stayed an hour after they were supposed to have been done, and left the stable in a terrible condition. 

The next week, they both made a gentleman’s agreement to focus on their shared task. For this temporary truce, they both agreed to not speak to one another unless it was absolutely necessary. This plan served them well, until Ferdinand raised an objection to how Hubert was hanging the horse bridles. Which turned into a disagreement about proper stable etiquette. Which turned into another hour of insulting one another, instead of any actual work. 

The Professor being disappointed in them would have been a proper punishment. A scolding would have been adequate, or a stern lecture. 

Anything would have been better than how she responded to Hubert and Ferdinand’s results. 

She only looked at them, and in the calmest voice, said: “Well, there’s always next week.” 

It was so innocently phrased, but the statement bore the weight of a heavy truth. That the Professor intended on assigning the two of them to stable duty, every week, until they managed to produce results. 

Even after that meeting, the two struggled to work together. 

They tried everything: from assigning individual jobs at the start of the night, to not speaking, to working in individual shifts instead of working in the same room together. 

They had even resorted to drawing a line down the center of the stable, to separate their work areas from one another. Unfortunately, the two could not agree on the exact placement of the line, or the rules about crossing over said line. 

“And what if I require a rake from your side of the stable? I am not allowed to cross the line to obtain it?” Hubert had asked. 

“If you are in need of anything from my side of the stable, you may ask politely, and I shall gladly hand it to you,” Ferdinand had retorted. 

“And what if you are at the other end of the stable? It would be foolish to call you over to deliver something that’s directly within my reach.” 

“Then you should ask me to hand it to you_ before _ I go-” 

Week after week they struggled. 

And week after week, they were returned to their duties together. 

By some strange twist of fate, their work ethic only started to improve once the two men abandoned their efforts to stop arguing with one another. 

They went back and forth all night, finding every topic they did not see eye to eye on. They argued about how to properly run an ambush, proper weapon care, who would win in a game of darts, training procedures, the location of the best fishing spot at Garreg Mach, superior dishes at the dining hall, where the historical fiction section belonged in a library, et cetera. One argument always bled into the next seamlessly, until both their voices were strained from effort. 

But they worked as they argued. Hands and feet always moving, busying themselves while their minds remained focused on their disagreement. 

After that, the results of their work improved spectacularly. So it became a routine. 

One of those nights, late in the stables at Garreg Mach, the two were having one of their usual squabbles. 

“_ Please _ . ‘_The Knight of the Windmill _ ’ does not hold a candle to ‘_Charmine _’. You are only so fond of the former because it’s so dreadfully romantic,” Hubert said. 

He was standing off to the side of the room, measuring feed for the horses, when they broached the topic of operas. Hubert had not seen nearly as many as Ferdinand had, but he knew enough about the subject to know that Ferdinand’s declaration of what the best opera was was painfully inaccurate. 

“So what if it is? All great operas are about love. Even your beloved ‘_Charmine _’,” Ferdinand retorted. 

Ferdinand sat off on another side of the room, cleaning out a set of buckets for the horses, his long hair tied at the base of his neck to keep it out of the way. 

“‘_Charmine _ ’ is as much of a love story, as ‘_The Barber of Enbarr _’ is a political drama,” Hubert said dryly. 

“So you say, but a reckless passion for that which cannot be obtained is still a romantic feeling. Of course, _ I _ would never classify such a thing as true love,” Ferdinand responded, waving his sponge through the air with enough dramatic flair to coat a nearby wall with suds. “However. As selfish of a love as it may be, the story line would not be complete without it.” 

Hubert smirked as he emptied a fully measured amount of feed into a large barrel, before he began to work on closing the top of it. 

“Well. I had no idea I was in the presence of an expert. You seem to have it all figured out. Tell me, do you consider yourself a master at matters of the heart? Shall I beg for your wisdom the next time I am plagued by longing for another?” 

Hubert always knew his japes were successful when Ferdinand scowled at him. Especially when that scowl was coupled by a slight embarrassed reddening of his cheeks. 

“I know enough!” Ferdinand insisted, beginning to scrub the bucket in front of his with renewed vigor. He refused to look in Hubert’s direction when he spoke up once more, though the determination did not waver from his voice. 

“More than you, I am sure. That is, if you are capable of such a thing,” Ferdinand said. 

“I am indeed capable,” Hubert responded, nonchalantly moving to measure out another barrel of feed once he had closed the first. “One does not need to fall in love with every pretty face they meet, in order to have that capacity.” 

“If you are trying to imply that I am some sort of easily infatuated fool, you are sorely mistaken,” Ferdinand said. The buckets before him were seeing the best scrubbing they’d had in years, as Ferdinand channeled his frustration into his handiwork. 

“I will have you know that my heart is not so easily won. I have had friends that I have loved dearly, and my family, but I have truly never been in love before,” he said. 

He had hoped that the declaration would have been enough to throw Hubert off of his game, but no such luck. 

“Then how are you so sure?” Hubert asked without hesitation. 

“Sure of what?” 

“Sure of what love entails? If, as you say, you’ve never been in love before. How will you know when it happens?” 

That caused Ferdinand to pause for a moment. He hated when Hubert did that, asked him something so brutally forward that Ferdinand wasn’t prepared with an answer. 

But Ferdinand would not give in to Hubert’s mockery so easily. Once he had a moment to regain his thoughts, he continued. 

“I shall know, because love is too powerful to ignore. I will have no other choice,” Ferdinand said. 

“That sounds like a hostage situation,” Hubert replied. 

“Must you be so sour all the time?” Ferdinand shot back, frowning at Hubert. 

“If your theory cannot withstand after I prick holes in it, it is not a very stable theory,” said Hubert. 

“And that is where your problem lies!” Ferdinand exclaimed, with another wild gesticulation of the sponge. “You are trying to think of love as a rational concept, but it cannot be explained by logic. Love is not felt with the mind, but the heart. I shall know _ exactly _ when my love comes along, because my heart will tell me.” 

“_ Exactly _? You mean to say that you could pick your future betrothed out from a group, all before speaking a word to them?” Hubert asked. 

He had meant for the statement to mock Ferdinand’s naivete. He had not expected the other man to actually agree with his jest. 

“Of course!” Ferdinand said, with bold confidence. “There would be no question about it. Once I see my soulmate, I shall know that we are meant to be. Every word I hear from her will only further prove the validity of my feelings. That is the power of true love,” he stated firmly. 

The two of them were ahead of schedule, due to their routine of working while arguing with one another. This gave Hubert enough time to set his bag of feed aside, and lean against one of the wooden posts connected to the ceiling of the stable. 

Because as often as they fought, Ferdinand had gotten better and better at keeping up with Hubert’s retorts. But every so often, Hubert found something out about the man that was so horribly misguided, _ so _ terribly illogical, that it was damn near fascinating. 

These were the moments that Hubert enjoyed the most. Waving Ferdinand’s stupidity in his face, showing him just how foolish he sounded when he went off about something he knew nothing about. 

Hubert was gathering ammunition. All he had to do was keep the man talking, and Ferdinand would give Hubert everything he needed to utterly humiliate the other man. 

So he paid close attention. He watched, and listened, as Ferdinand dug his own grave. 

“You seem to have given it a lot of thought. I bet you even know what color bonnet she’ll be wearing when your paths first cross,” Hubert said, egging Ferdinand on. 

Ferdinand remained blissfully unaware of Hubert’s dark intentions, too focused on his washing. 

“Oh, nothing so specific. Though I have always imagined she may be partial to a light blue, or something with delicate embroidery on it,” Ferdinand commented. 

“I have thought less about what style of clothing she might wear, and more about the message that clothing sends! Surely something humbly respectful... though if I met her at a ball, perhaps it would be something a bit more extravagant,” he said. 

“A proper lady, then. Someone worthy of a noble husband,” Hubert suggested. 

“Her social standing would not matter to me. Even a common lady can be quite dignified,” Ferdinand corrected. “It would not be a matter of her station, but the way she holds herself. The pride in her posture, and the grace in her actions! She will surely be most impressive, if she managed to capture my attention. I cannot imagine falling in love with someone whom I do not greatly admire.” 

“So you would require her to be striking. As well-mannered as she is beautiful,” said Hubert. 

“She would certainly be beautiful to me. It matters not what other men think of her physical appearance. I am sure I will think of her as the most radiant creature in the world, even if that is only a matter of my personal taste,” said Ferdinand. 

Hubert had started this discussion feeling quite confident in himself, and sure-footed, but something strange had begun to occur. The longer they talked on this subject, and the closer Hubert studied Ferdinand, the more that sneering smirk on his face started to fade away. 

Because Hubert had expected Ferdinand to go off on a grand tangent, listing off horrible cliche qualities of a perfect lover. He expected Ferdinand to paint him a picture with his words, of a flawless and well-adjusted damsel that only existed inside children’s storybooks. 

He hadn’t expected the softness that had overtaken Ferdinand’s tone as he went on. How he had gone from vigorously scrubbing at his buckets to holding onto them tenderly, as if the lightly water-logged wood in his hands was his promised future lover. And how Ferdinand smiled, ever so lightly, while he walked Hubert through his heart’s desires. 

“But that is so little of what makes up a person. I must admit, I do not know exactly what my love shall look like. But I have imagined every piece of her. I do not know how she will wear her hair, but I know she shall be gentle, and kind. I do not know where she may hail from. But I know she will be wise enough to guide me in the right direction when my reasoning falters, and patient enough to forgive me if I should ever fail her expectations,” Ferdinand said. 

Though he spoke out loud to Hubert, Ferdinand seemed to have traveled to another place mentally. He surely never would have spoken in such a fond tone, if he remembered whom he was addressing in the room. 

“I hope she shall be brave, so that we may face whatever hardships life may have in store for us, side by side. But if she is easily frightened, I would gladly take on every obstacle in our way for her. Her smile and her confidence in my abilities would give me the strength to move mountains,” Ferdinand added. 

“I shall know right when I meet her, because my world will suddenly be brighter. And everything that ever felt like it was missing from my life will be there, standing in front of me. Time will stand still, and that is when my heart will let me know that I have finally found her.” 

Hubert was not able to respond. 

He could only stand, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched Ferdinand. A simple minded idiot, softly lit by the flickering flames of the lanterns they had set up after the sun had gone down, holding a watering bucket in his arms while he waxed poetic about a woman who did not exist. 

Hubert could not think of a good retort. All he could think about was how Ferdinand himself looked like a dancing flame in the darkness. Bright and orange, and powerful enough to fill up an entire hallway with just one small fraction of his energy. 

Ferdinand was the first one to break the silence. He looked up from his bucket, gazing so tenderly in Hubert’s direction for only a moment, before his mind caught back up with his current location. 

And just as soon as that adoring look had crossed his features, it was gone. He scoffed at Hubert, turning his nose up as he defended himself. 

“But I am sure _ you _think that all of that is foolish. You do not have to hold your tongue, I know you do not think highly of such illogical sentimentality,” Ferdinand said. 

With that, Hubert shook himself out of whatever spell he had been trapped under. He stood up straight once more, reaching back to the back of feed. 

This was his chance to destroy Ferdinand’s perspective. To show the man that there was no such thing as true love. That what he had been describing was simple infatuation, and that infatuation always led to unhappy marriages once the thrill of their youth faded away. 

He could have said so many things. But instead, he said “Some of your expectations are rather unrealistic, but I cannot argue against what it is that you desire in a partner. There are plenty of wise, kind, and brave women in the world. I am sure you shall fall in love with one of them.” 

That seemed to throw Ferdinand off his guard, more than any sarcastic retort could have. 

“Do… you mean that? Truly?” he asked, warily. 

“I do not say anything frivolously,” Hubert replied, making sure to turn his back to Ferdinand as they continued speaking. 

Ferdinand was silent for a few moments, taking in the weight of what Hubert had said to him. 

“... and what about you, Hubert? Surely you must have also given this topic some thought. What is it that your heart desires?” Ferdinand asked. 

He sounded so open. So inquisitive, and genuinely invested in whatever it was Hubert would tell him next. 

So Hubert responded in the only manner that felt safe. Whatever it took for them to not continue down this dangerous path. 

“What my heart desires, currently, is for you to stop washing the same spot on that bucket, and move onto rinsing them before the sun rises,” Hubert said. 

And just like that, everything was back to normal. 

Ferdinand stood up, with an indignant huff, collecting as many of the buckets in his arms as he could physically carry. 

“Several of these buckets had an unacceptable amount of algae built up in them! I was taking the proper amount of care and attention to detail to rid them of the build-up,” Ferdinand snapped back. “If you had properly washed them last week, I would not have had to spend the extra time scrubbing them out.” 

The two of them carried on bickering with each other, trading verbal blows back and forth for the rest of the evening. 

Back to the status-quo. Everything as it should be. Unchanging. Unyielding. Stationary. 

Because in a world full of war, and wild beasts, and terrible forces of evil that operated in the shadows, something had to remain constant. Something that could not be killed, or lost, or taken away. 

It was that very desire for a grounding force that drove Hubert to make a trip to the library later that night, to borrow a few dense books about the political history of Fodlan, to bring back to his personal quarters to read before bed. 

All so that the last thoughts on his mind before shutting his eyes would be something easy to digest. In reality, the world as it existed around him. Not on dreams that could never be, of gentle hands, of incomplete puzzle pieces, and men who shined like candlelight.

* * *

_Until then, I shall wait._  
_And till then, I'll be strong._  
_Oh, I'll know when my love comes along._  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The punchline of this fic is Ferdinand is already falling in love with Hubert and he has No Flipping Idea because he always thought he was going to fall in love at first sight. That one snuck UP on ya, didn't it ferdie-boo 
> 
> Bonus points for anyone who can pick out all the opera/musical references or influences in this fic. There are a SHIT ton  
I'll tell you the biggest one! Title of this piece and some lines in it are pulled from "I'll Know" from Guys and Dolls.


End file.
